Puer Natus
by severedsouls
Summary: Harry had a rough summer and returns to Hogwarts a social outcast and his head a mess. Luckily there are some Slytherins willing to help him out.
1. Chapter 1

Hello! I don't really know where I'm going with this so suggestions are great. I don't own Harry Potter. I update infrequently. Let me know what you think.

September 2. 7:15 AM

The sharp morning sun was already beating down as Harry ran up the hill to the castle, after completing a jog to the far side of the lake. His lungs were burning as he took step after step on the dirt path, but his mind was calm for the first time since stepping on the train to Hogwarts.

He was covered in sweat, despite the early hour, and felt relief with every drop that trickled down his neck. This was freedom, running a few miles in the quiet morning with no one to tell him what to do, no one to laugh at him, no one to whisper or yell or stare or hit.

Harry reached the castle doors, but didn't slow, and instead trotted through and continued up the seven flights of stairs to the Gryffindor common room. And then his relief turned to a ball of anxiety.

Giving the password, "helium," Harry slipped through the portrait hole and made his way to the boys' dormitories. Neville was awake and nodded at him with an awkward smile, but the rest of the boys were still asleep, which Harry was grateful for. He grabbed a change of clothes and his heavy bag, and went to shower.

As the water poured over him, the room totally still besides his stall, Harry felt tears well and anger bubble up.

 _Stop acting like such a baby. Stop acting like such a poof. No wonder no one likes you._ His mind ran in circles, faster and faster as his throat closed up. _You deserve this, you deserve pain, you deserve to be alone, you deserve pain, pain, pain._

Harry Potter punched the wall, a release of his frustrations and feeling the gratifying feeling of sharp pain in his hand. His chest loosened as he felt his fist throb in time with his heart. _This is good,_ he thought, _this is alive and this is safe and this is numb._

Harry twisted the knobs to stop the flow of water, dried off with his towel, put on a tee and some jeans, and replaced his glamour that had fallen with the spray of water.

Then he dodged the glances in the common room and trotted down to the kitchens, asking an older House Elf to get him a mug of coffee and an apple. He sat at the miniature table and sipped the dark drink, letting the warmth of the cup radiate through his knuckles.

Harry's thoughts turned to the previous day, of arriving at the station hours early and smoking fag after fag to ease the nausea in his stomach, of applying his glamour quickly, of riding alone and falling asleep again and again, of waking up again and again as his head hit the glass window or he heard a noise from beyond his compartment, of the glares he received as he boarded a carriage, of the distance people gave him at the feast, of the way Ron had dragged his bed away from his, saying he didn't feel safe sleeping so close to him.

Harry had barely slept as whispered words came back to him again and again, reminding him of what he was: a freak.

So when he woke up at 6 AM, he decided to free himself from the castle and all its gossip, and do some training. For what, he didn't know, since he wasn't joining the Quidditch team this year, but it had felt good to run until he was numb and couldn't think of anything but putting one foot in front of the other.

And now let coffee trace its way through his veins.

His whole body hurt, battered and bruised from a summer with his uncle. Though Petunia had gotten a good hit in with the frying pan, directly to his chest.

"You don't happen to have something stronger, do you?" Harry asked the army of House Elves that were scurrying around, sending food up to the Great Hall for breakfast.

"Only Butterbeer, sir," a squeaky voice replied. "We's not supposed to have anything mores dangerous about."

Harry curled his lip but nodded, reaching instead into his bag to pull out the small bottle of whiskey in there. He poured it in his coffee, trying to remember how much of the vodka he had left in his trunk.

Harry had charmed his muggle ID before leaving Hogwarts last year, with the only intention of buying cigarettes, a nasty habit he and Ron had developed while hanging out with some older Gryffs last year. Instead, Dudley had coerced him into buying him alcohol, letting Harry keep whatever change was left over each time, leaving Harry to buy his own supply. Proving highly lucrative, Harry eventually acquired enough money left over to not only get him drunk every day, but also to buy a pack of clean white tee shirts and two pairs of jeans. He hadn't had his own clothes, clean and fitted, besides his robes, even once in his life. They were cheap but he felt better roaming the world in something besides grimy hand-me-downs five sizes too big.

The whiskey coffee mixture made Harry scrunch up his face, but he continued to down it while flipping through his Transfiguration text. He had owl ordered all his books this summer, since no one was going to come to rescue him, he knew, and he had already perused all his texts deeply, especially on the days he was locked in his room with nothing to do.

The time ticked by, the lonely boy taking small bites of his apple and large gulps of coffee, counting down the minutes until he had to get his class schedule.

9:12 AM.

Monday: Charms, break, lunch, Double Herbology

Tuesday: Double Potions, lunch, Study Hall

Wednesday: Double Transfiguration, lunch, Care of Magical Creatures

Thursday: Double Potions, lunch, break, Charms

Friday: Double DADA, lunch, Double Transfiguration

It wasn't too stressful of a schedule and though Harry knew all the Double classes would grow tiring, it was better than having a packed schedule full of single periods in different classes like previous years. NEWT level narrowed everything down, both a blessing and a curse in Harry's opinion. He had bloody Potions and Transfiguration twice, despite them being Doubles.

Luckily, he was in Charms now, being given the introductory lecture and being glared at by most the Gryffindors.

Harry propped his head in his hand and copied down his schedule, over and over and over until his hand, already stinging in the knuckles, began to cramp up. It wasn't long after that class was dismissed, already given three feet on how theory affects mindset while performing non-verbal spells. Bloody fantastic.

Harr slips away from the class as they filter through the door. He climbs the far stairs up two floors and finds a cozy balcony, far from the occasionally used elective classrooms on the fifth floor. There, he lights a cigarette, breathing in the much-needed smoke.

He sits alone for three hours, smoking cigarettes and nibbling on a second apple, then throwing it as hard as he can toward the horizon.

He feels dizzy, but has no appetite.

He feels empty and it feels good.

12:22 PM.

Severus Snape sat beside Minerva at lunch and gazed at the Gryffindor table. Since October of last year, when the Dark Lord had finally been defeated, Harry Potter had sat with a gaggle of annoying Lions at every meal, no longer off chasing horcruxes with the Headmaster, or hiding from those who twisted his words.

This year, there was already a notable difference in the boy. He was separate, estranged from his friends it seemed. Others shot glares at him, even the Weasley boy. It was as if he had become inflicted with a contagious disease.

Severus shifted his food around, an unease settling onto his shoulders. The dunderheaded Potter boy was taking up too much of his time, as usual. Silly social problems have nothing on the life and death circumstances of previous years, anyway. But the whispers heard in the hall bothered him, and Minerva's seeming lack of interest furthered his irritation. If one of his own was facing such adversity, he would pull them aside as soon as possible. Hopefully the problem would be corrected soon and Severus could continue his life as distant protector of the boy, happy to berate him up close.

He examined his own table, noting the few numbers and stillness of his students. The war had destroyed many families and torn several of his students from life too early. There were barely any seventh years, and his sixth years were missing Gregory, Vincent, and Millicent. The few remaining were either uninvolved in the war or considered blood traitors now. They graced the halls with silent dignity. The first years, on the other hand, contained a rowdy bunch, primarily Half Bloods he had noticed with surprise. It seems that the Sorting Hat had determined his house safe once more.

Severus was snapped back into reality by a gentle nudge from his right. The nuisance that is Remus Lupin sat there, always with a soft smile.

"So, Severus, what is the best way to harvest Red Clover dust?"

Infuriating werewolf, always trying to lure him into conversation about topics that everyone knows he adores. Can't he get a moments peace to contemplate the ever evolving social hierarchy of his idiotic students? Can't he further obsess over what trouble the Potter brat must be getting into? Can't he escape that damn werewolf smile?


	2. Chapter 2

Hey! I still have no idea where I'm going with this but I hope you enjoy.

Tuesday 8:56 AM.

Double Potions was already going to be a disaster, but now that angry Gryffindors in the cold hall outside the lab surrounded Harry, he knew it would be a nightmare.

He was being dramatic though. It was just Ron and Seamus surrounding him, but they were both taller and broader than Harry. His back was pressed against the wall as the boys leered over him.

"You think you can just saunter around our dormitory, Potter?"

Harry squared his shoulder and tightened his jaw as he looked at Seamus. "No, I suppose not, Finnigan."

Seamus's face turned red and Ron looked between them before stepping in front of the other boy. "Don't play your weird games with him anymore!"

"Weasel, you're blocking the door," a cool voice came from behind the boys and Harry saw the pale glimmer of Draco Malfoy's eyes. Malfoy nodded at him and shoved past Ron into the classroom.

"What are you doing loitering in the hall?" Snape's sharp voice cut over them, and Harry scurried around Ron and into the back corner of the laboratory. He slumped into his seat, only looking up when Snape revealed the overly laborious instructions for the potion that day.

Harry got to work, collecting ingredients from the cupboard and lighting the bottom of the cauldron.

Things were going well enough slicing and grinding and squeezing all the ingredients in preparation until Snape set about glowering at the individual tables. Harry rolled his eyes and kept his head down. After Snape was re-exposed as spy for the Light and one of the war heroes, students had a newfound respect for the man, even including Harry. After all, the professor had saved his life a fair amount of times. That didn't mean that Harry was excited for Snape to hover over his cauldron and tell him he hadn't chopped the octopus eyes evenly.

"Remember, at this level of Potions work, I expect perfection from each of you," Snape scolded to the room before swishing to Malfoy and Parkinson's table in front of Harry. Of course they didn't get reprimanded. Harry rolled his eyes and continued his work.

Potions, though stressful, was always kind of fun when he sat by Ron and Hermione. Ron and him would whisper and joke and look over Hermione's shoulder to check if they were following directions. Not anymore. Ron was next to Seamus (how the bloody hell did he get into NEWT Potions anyway?) and Hermione was next to Susan Bones.

Its his own damn fault Hermione was ignoring him, but the rest of the class were all just ignorant prats, Harry felt. He should have talked to Hermione, but instead he lost his temper and yelled at her last year and she hasn't said a word to him since.

So, great, he's all alone. What a bloody surprise that he sabotaged his last remaining friendship.

Anger coursed through him, but he had no outlet now, not in the middle of class, so he gripped his stirring rod tight enough to make his sore knuckles hurt. It didn't help much, but he managed to focus enough on his potion to make it to the end of class. He ladled some into a vial, thinking that it was good enough for an A if not an E, and headed to drop it off at Snape's desk.

Then a foot reached out in front of him and sent Harry sprawling onto the rough stone floor. He could feel skin peel away from his palms and could hear the clattering of his vial rolling ahead of him.

 _At least it didn't shatter all over me,_ Harry thought as he pushed himself up. There were snickers across the classroom, but he just ducked his head and scooped up his vial, depositing it quickly on Snape's desk.

"You are all such immature half-wits," said a voice, and the laughter immediately ceased. Harry raised his brows at Draco Malfoy, who merely nodded in return. Well, nodded with a slight smirk.

"Right, right, fascinating," drawled Snape. "Potter, wash your hands, everyone else, get out."

The classroom filled with a flurry of movement as everyone moved quickly to escape the wrath of the Potions Professor. Harry wiped his hands on his jeans and slung his bag over his shoulder, waiting a minute so that Ron and Seamus could get ahead of him. Malfoy had lingered behind, seeming to want to talk to Snape, and Harry gave him one more nod of thanks before taking off.

He took off to the dungeon bathroom, washing his hands of dirt and specks of blood. He felt numb. The world was moving, classes were happening, and he was there but he wasn't present. It was like he didn't exist anymore.

Harry stared at his reflection in the mirror. His glamour showed a boy with fair skin and pink cheeks, bright green eyes, and a lean but filled out face. Harry dropped the glamour, grimacing at his true self.

Sunburnt, dull, thin; he looked as if he had been living on the streets of London. Not exactly the image people imagine when they think of the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry put the glamour back on and stared into his own eyes, trying to find a hint of life underneath the extravagant color.

He merely looked lost.

Sssssssss

1:30 PM.

Harry settled in at the end of one of the long study hall tables. He had avoided the Great Hall again, instead eating a sandwich with the House Elves in the kitchens and sipping coffee on a balcony as he smoked a cigarette.

But now he was back on schedule, pulling out his Charms book and a piece of parchment to start his essay. He starting reading the chapter for a few minutes, ignoring the typical rustlings and whispers of Study Hall, when two people sat across from him. At first, the hopeful and idiotic part of his brain thought it was Ron and Hermione, but that thought came crashing down when he recognized another pair.

"Er, hi?" Harry said, looking between Malfoy and Parkinson. They both smirked at the same time, giving off a weird Slytherin twin vibe.

"Hello, Potter, mind if we study with you?" Malfoy asked, his tone confident but strangely kind. Though no longer enemies, and strangely on the same side, the two boys rarely spoke to each other.

"Sure, but, um, why?" Harry was confused to say the least. No one wanted to talk to him, and definitely no one wanted to sit next to him. He was a disgusting pariah of the Hogwarts social world.

"Well, Potter," drawled the dark eyed girl, twirling her short hair around her finger, "Us gays have got to stick together. Even little Gryffindors like yourself."

Harry gulped. They wanted to be friends? Or something like it? That was positively ridiculous. They were the Slytherin elite. They had high-ranking friends in all other houses and silently maintained positions of authority wherever they went. And they wanted to be friends with him?

From a Slytherin perspective, it didn't make sense.

Except, if they really are gay they could just want like to form other gay friendships or something? It really wasn't adding up, but Harry was desperate. So he nodded and watched silver eyes light up.

For the next two hours, the three exchanged tips for Charms and Potions, exchanging class schedules and anecdotes about transfigurations gone wrong. It was very light and airy, and Harry couldn't help but laugh at the entertaining and sassy pair across from him. He felt that harsh heaviness he had been carrying around lighten, and when study hall was over, Harry let the smile carry over into the rest of his day.


	3. Chapter 3

Hi all, sorry for the long delay. I have work and classes to keep up with and it can be quite difficult to find time for this as well. Regardless, I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know what you think!

8:42 PM.

His smile was definitely gone. Harry morosely stared at his shredded sheets, pillows, and curtains on the bed he had slept in for five years. Someone had spelled "Get Out" on the wall over his bed. His trunk was tipped over and his few belongings he had placed on his bedside table were scattered, a picture frame broken that had held a photo of him, Ron, and Hermione.

He got the idea. Harry threw all of his belongings into his trunk, threw his bag back over his shoulder, and shrunk his trunk so he could put it in his pocket. Then he walked out of the dormitory, down the stairs, and through the portrait, not sparing a glance towards the bustling common room.

Once outside, with only ten minutes until curfew, Harry blankly looked around the empty halls and picked the East hallway, towards where he knew empty classrooms lingered on the floor below.

His footsteps echoed, and with each one, Harry felt his anger rise until it felt like it was choking him. His chest was tight and his breathing was becoming faster and faster, and all of a sudden he dropped his bag and slammed his fists into the wall over and over again, his ears ringing and his blood flowing, all he could feel was his heart pounding and the sweet feeling of bone against stone.

Until suddenly he couldn't move his arms, something was holding them down to his sides. Harry bared his teeth and pulled away, suddenly aware that it was a person holding him back. He swung around, ready to grab his bag and run, but froze at the sight of who was there.

Dressed in his typical all black, Snape was peering down at Harry with a dissecting look on his face. Black eyes flicked down to Harry's seemingly unmarred hands to the wall that was littered with dark blots of blood, and Harry noticed a slight crease appear on the man's forehead.

"I think it is best if you come with me, Mr. Potter," Snape said softly.

Harry's shoulders slumped, his unruly hair swinging into his face. He swung his bag over his shoulder and followed his Potions professor down the hallway, startling just a bit when they entered an empty classroom instead of being led to the infirmary. Snape, with a flick of his wand, lit the fire and candles of the room, turning what was once dark and dusty into a cheery space.

"Alright, Mr. Potter, I think it would be best if you removed your glamour now so that I may get a good look at the damage."

Harry flushed with shame. He was truly an idiot. He had got caught just a few days into the term and now Snape of all people was going to see him exposed. And of fucking course, he didn't even have his robes on since they were only mandatory for class, so the man would also see the faded bruises that existed on his sunburned, too skinny arms.

Defeated and angry, Harry dropped his glamours, watching Snape out of the corner of his eye for signs that confirmed what he already knew – that he was disgusting. Oddly, the only thing Harry could detect was a tightening of his mouth.

"Well, I cannot heal you in this classroom," Snape muttered, his voice neither hostile nor kind, just matter of fact. "It is best if we go to either my study or the Hospital Wing. You may choose the location, I just need access to potions."

"Er… your office, I guess," Harry shrugged, his mortification running deep, not wanting more people to find out about his weaknesses. He knew Madame Pomfrey would tut over him and make him answer questions and turn it all into a big deal. Snape would at least want to get it over with quickly.

They left the classroom and took the back stairs down into the dungeons, the air growing damp and cool. Instead of turning left towards the Potions' classrooms and Snape's office, Harry trailed behind the man as he turned right, walking past the entrance to the Slytherin common room and around a corner, stopping in front of a small portrait of a stern looking woman. Snape touched his fingers to the frame and a door slid into appearance and open.

With his standard dramatics, Snape stepped through the door, black cloak swirling behind him. Harry paused, wondering if he could still make a run for it, knowing that entering into Snape's quarters would be the beginning of the end to all his secrets, knowing that he could never turn back once the Potion's Master discovers the truths hidden on Harry's body.

"Come along, Potter," Snape commands from inside.

Harry steps through.


	4. Chapter 4

A longer chapter for you all! Hope you enjoy.

SSSSSSSSS

The interior of Snape's quarters was surprising. Compared to the man's office, which was cold and littered with jars full of potion ingredients, the private quarters were almost cozy. Of course, the floor was still the cold stone of the dungeons and the ceiling was tall domed stone, mimicking the passageways of the dungeons, but a large rug was centered in front of the fireplace along with flickering candles lining the walls. Along those walls were rows and rows of bookshelves reaching towards the ceiling, books stuffed in every available space. Maybe the strangest part, besides the room not hosting any disgusting jars of eyeballs, were the two windows above the fireplace. Instead of a dark scene of the grounds, they were a murky green, with the occasional black shape darting across. It took Harry a bit to realize that they must be far enough in the dungeons that they were under the lake.

"Potter," Snape snapped, causing Harry to focus in on the man. He blushed, realizing he had been caught staring, and hurried to the couch in front of the fire. Harry awkwardly sat on the edge of the worn leather cushion, awaiting direction.

The darkly dressed man pulled a stool in front of him and sat, pulling out a small black box and opening it. Thin fingers pulled out two bottles and one small jar before the lid snapped shut.

Snape raised his wand, making Harry flinch, but nothing seemed to happen except a slight tingle through Harry's body. He wanted to ask what it was, but felt it best to stay silent in this strange predicament. Out of thin air, a piece of parchment appeared, quickly snatched by Snape. His dark eyes scanned the paper, a deep furrow digging into his forehead.

"Take these two potions, Potter," the man said, not removing his eyes from the parchment. "You crushed two knuckles in your idiotic display of emotions."

Harry glared at the man, but swallowed the potions in front of him, hands aching as he clutched the bottles. After the second potion hit his stomach though, all the pain in his body evaporated, letting Harry feel like he could breathe for the first time in months. Regardless, he could feel some sort of tension in his knuckles, and looked down to watch them shift under his bloody skin until they appeared to be aligned properly, or at least as properly as they could look under the puffy, torn, red skin.

"Alright, hold your hands out, I need to heal these abrasions and apply a bruise salve," Snape said, finally tearing his eyes from the parchment.

Harry stretched his hands out, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. Snape perched forward on his stool; wand gripped tightly in his hand and gently leveled Harry's hand with his other. With one muttered spell, Harry's hands were clean, and then began a soft reiteration of one word as the wand crossed over Harry's hand, and then the other, the abrasions healing and fading, until they were just coarse spots covered with bruises.

As Snape, yes the dark, snarky Potion's Master, delicately held Harry's hand and spread on bruise salve, Harry eyed the professor.

He wasn't an especially attractive man, his skin ghostly pale over an angular face and an oversized nose, all framed by long, lank hair. Still, the man held a sort of grace, with his high cheekbones and dark eyes. On the side of his neck, just barely peaking out of his high collared robes, was the purplish scarring from Nagini's attack last year.

Snape shifted, drawing Harry's attention back to his hands. The redness was down, but the knuckles were still puffy. Regardless, it looked a whole lot better.

"Thank you, sir," Harry whispered, pulling his hands back into his lap.

"We aren't quite finished, Potter," Snape said, leaning back and piercing Harry with his searching eyes. Harry shrunk in on himself, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

"What do you mean, sir?"

"You have numerous other injuries, seeming to have occurred before you arrived at Hogwarts. I cannot, in good conscious, let you leave without healing you completely." The words were said securely, leaving no room for discussion.

Harry curled up tighter, but nodded his consent to the floor.

"There is quite a spread of bruises across your arms, legs, and torso, but the majority of those are minor. You have extensive bruising around your throat, causing swelling in your esophagus. There is also swelling in your shoulder, most likely caused by a dislocation that was forcibly popped back into place," at this Snape looked up, only continuing once Harry nodded in affirmation. "You have a bruised rib as well as some sort of scarring on one shoulder and your back. That is not to mention your malnutrition and vitamin deficiencies."

At this point, Harry has buried his head into his knees, a suffocating bubble rising up in his chest. He wanted to disappear, just vanish and never have to deal with this again.

"Harry," Snape said, his voice expressing awkwardness, "I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable, but I do need to treat some of these. I'll try to be as quick as possible, if you can just remove your shirt."

Harry shook his head, fingers digging into his jeans. He heard a sigh from in front of him, but he couldn't make himself look up. He felt shame curl into the pit of his stomach, disgusted with himself for not being able to follow the instruction. That sense of apprehension that hangs over him when he disobeys had returned. He knew it was silly, but he always felt as if his uncle would appear to make bloody well sure Harry did what was asked.

Harry switched to digging his nails into his bare ankles. The sharp tang of pain made his chest lighten a bit.

"Alright, Potter," Snape said, his voice back to professional quality, "I will give you the rest of this bruise salve. Use it on other bruises, especially over your ribcage. You will also take a sip each morning from this anti-inflammatory potion," Snape rummaged around in his little black case again, pulling out a small red vial. "You will also attempt to spread this scar reducer on your shoulder and back," putting a small black bottle out, "and you will appear in my office on Wednesday after dinner for a nutrition potion. Is that understood?"

Harry nodded, never taking his eyes off the floor. He was surprised Snape was letting him get out of this, though he supposed the older man had become less vicious since Voldemort was defeated. He still wasn't exactly pleasant, but definitely more manageable.

"Well, it appears to be far past curfew. I shall escort you back to your dormitory."

Harry's head snapped up, a new kind of panic blossoming at this predicament.

"It's fine sir, I can manage getting back." Harry said the words just a bit too quickly, finding it hard to breathe still.

Snape's jaw tightened, only increasing Harry's apprehension. Logically he knows that the worst that had come from his professor's jaw clenching was an especially harsh verbal lashing, but Harry was still partially immersed in his summertime self-protective nature.

"Fine, Potter. But if you get caught, I will not vouch for you. And if you somehow manage to fall or find trouble and undo my work, you will be going to the Hospital Wing," Snape said, sounding both cold and bored, "Now, disperse out of my sight. And tell no one where my quarters are."

The wall they had come in through opened again, and Harry uncurled himself and started toward it.

"Er, thank you sir. Have a good night," Harry whispered at the dark clothed man perched in front of the fire.

Receiving no answer, Harry stepped out of the quarters.

His mind was reeling. The past hour seemed fuzzy in Harry's head. Snape had found him punching a wall, had taken him into his own quarters, had healed him, and let him go, all without getting Harry into any real trouble. Sure, Harry's anxiety was through the roof, and he had to return Wednesday night for another round, but ultimately Harry had not had to disclose anything.

The teen rambled up a few flights of stairs to the sixth floor and headed to the Western wing of corridors, the infrequently used side of the castle.

Many of the abandoned classrooms were locked, as Harry tried the door one by one once he was felt as if he had managed to find the most tucked away row. Eventually, marked oddly with what appeared to be burn marks, a doorknob finally twisted open under his hand.

The room he had discovered had clearly been for a large class, probably Transfiguration or another core subject, and was laid out with dusty wooden floors and old desks. A row of large bay windows graced one wall, each with a wooden bench underneath. Finally, a small set of steps led up into what Harry assumed was a professor's old office.

Harry sneezed as he moved further in and placed his trunk and bag on the ground. Resizing his trunk, he wondered what to do. And then it hit him.

"Erm, is there a House Elf that could help me?" He felt silly speaking to the air, but it seemed to pay off when one of the little creatures popped into existence in front of him, the Hogwarts tea towel neatly in place and big eyes excitedly staring at him.

"Hello young masters, sirs, how can Theezy help you?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably under the gaze of the small elf. "Er, yeah, thank you, er can you help me put an bed in here maybe? If there's any that aren't being used, of course and if you want," Harry hurriedly said, not wanting to put the elf in any kind of strange postion since he was only a student.

Theezy's face lit up, however, and popped away, leaving Harry shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. A moment later though, the elf, a girl Harry thought, was back, and this time brought two more elves and a Queen sized bed, oddly enough, as well as a set of drawers, a large mirror, a coffee table, and a dark blue sofa.

"Hopefully young masters likes these. These are the best extra furnitures we's has. There is more, if young masters would like, but Theezy did not want to be too presumptuous."

Harry was flabbergasted, honestly. This was perfect.

"Theezy did very well, thank you so much," he whispered. The elves let out a little cheer at Harry's words.

"Please direct us where to place each item," the elf said, looking up happily.

For the next fifteen minutes, Harry directed Theezy and one of the other elves, Avee, to placing the bed neatly against a side wall, along with the set of drawers and mirror. The sofa he put facing the beautiful windows, coffee table in front. The other elf spent the time dusting, polishing, and wiping every inch of the room until it shined.

Finally, Harry asked for one more thing.

"I don't know if that is possible, but could you somehow turn that old office into a bathroom, toilet and shower and sink and all?"

Theezy smiled once more, and took the other elves to the office. Not five minutes later they were back, happily telling Harry they completed his task and had magicked the plumbing into position.

"Wow, er, thank you so much. You guys are amazing," Harry gushed, uncomfortable at the glee the elves expressed at his gratitude.

"Thank you so much sirs. Please call Theezy again if you need anything!"

They all popped away, leaving Harry alone once more.

He was exhausted, though, and quickly discarded of his day clothes for his oversized and worn sleeping shirt and sweatpants. Harry slid under his new navy and cream sheet set and let himself fall into dreams.

SSSsssssssss

Severus was half asleep at his desk, head propped in hand, hair cascading in front of his face.

He had not slept well, to say the least. After the Potter boy had left, he had stayed staring into the flames of the fire for longer than he knew.

Rarely had he felt like the fool. Only when he determined that the Dark Lord was after his truest friend had he felt such self-depreciation. His ignorance in favor of easy power had guided him that time. This time it was somehow far more complicated.

The young Potter was harmed by Muggles. That much was obvious, but it left so many questions without answers that Severus felt truly idiotic.

How long? Was it from his guardians? Why didn't the bloody child eat? Was he starved or was it more emotional? There were other questions, too, about the child's act of pummeling a wall, about his distance from friends, about his profound depression. But Severus just kept seeing the hand shaped bruise, wrapped around a skinny neck.

Severus's eyes closed, fighting off a headache.

A moment later he felt his office wards breached and heard the door open.

"If you have questions about your impending quiz, please refer to your book," Severus said coldly, not bothering to open his eyes to find one of his third year Ravenclaws loitering about an hour before class.

However, no answer came, and instead Severus froze as a hand gently swept his hair out of his face and then cradled his cheek.

After a deep breath, he relaxed and opened his eyes.

"You know, Wolf, it does not do to sneak up on a Death Eater. I could have cursed your idiot mug off," Severus said, though he knew it lacked heat.

"Aw, but then what would you sneak glances at during tedious staff meetings?" Warm golden eyes met his own dark ones, unfortunately causing Severus to relax even further.

The warm hand left Severus's face after one more small pull through his hair.

"And what could you want in the dungeons at this time?" Snape said, regaining some of his typical coldness, though a slight blush forming as he realized the implication of his words. Remus grinned, but said nothing and merely held out a plate to the Potion's Master.

It was a plate of poached eggs and buttered sourdough slices, accompanied by mango slices. Severus felt his chest warm.

"I thought Molly was the only mother hen clucking about," he commented, but still took the proffered plate.

"Am I a wolf or a hen, Severus," Remus took a seat across from the man and crossing his legs.

"You are some sort of beast," Severus muttered, gently breaking the yolks of his eggs with his silverware. Remus let out a laugh.

"So, Potions Master, what has brought upon your absence from breakfast? Preparing a new fresh hell for your classes?"

Severus contemplated what to tell the Defense Professor. He knew that the man was overly protective of his "cub," which at this point could hinder his own gentle inquiries he was planning. However, perhaps the boy would need some sort of emotional assistance, which Severus was not remotely prepared for.

"I had a late night. There was a student in crisis that I had to handle," Severus opted towards discretion, at least for now until he could gather more information.

Remus's face displayed compassion towards his peer. "I understand, I came across a weeping first year Gryffindor lost on the way to Charms yesterday."

Severus smirked, causing Remus to roll his eyes.

For a few minutes, Remus perused the shelves of oddities Severus had collected over time while the owner of oddities finished his breakfast.

It pained Severus to admit it, even to himself, but he felt a comfort around the werewolf's continued presence in his life. The two had a tricky history and there were many years in which Severus denied Remus any sort of kindness, but in the past three years, the two had kindled a complicated relationship.

Severus frowned. Relationship was a word that implied quite a bit, and no one but Albus had truly breached Severus's closely held trust until the raggedy man came along. And there were key differences in the two relationships that even Severus could not ignore. Even just minutes ago, the other man had cupped Severus Snape's own cheek, an act most would never want, and especially never dare.

That kind of intimacy made Severus's stomach twist. And yet, he constantly yearned for it from Remus.

"What in the hell is this?" Remus was staring wide eyed at a jar full of hooves that kept disappearing and then reappearing.

"Pickled Tebo hooves," Severus replied, smirking as the other man's eyes widened.

"They're practically impossible to catch," the Defense professor muttered.

"They're practically impossible to catch using legal means," Severus rebutted, and seeing Remus's face change from shock to anger, quickly added, "I didn't catch them myself, silly mongrel. I bought them in Nigeria years ago to add to my collection."

Remus reverently put the jar back on the shelf.

"Shoo, now, Wolf, classes start in fifteen minutes and you will only distract me from gathering my notes."

Remus smirked at Severus, making the Potions Master blush yet again. He scowled at the other man and began collecting his grading book, third year folders, and personal Potions text.

"I shall endeavor not to distract until lunchtime, dear friend. Have a good morning," Remus smiled at the dour man and exited the office before Severus could reply with any scathing comment.

No matter Severus's own internal struggle about forming a more intimate relationship with the werewolf, he could not deny that he was in a considerably better mood than before the interaction.

Stretching his body out as he stood, the lithe man headed to the 3rd year Potions classroom, disturbing thoughts about Harry Potter pushed aside momentarily.


End file.
